


Endeavour: Canvas

by Parakeetist



Category: Endeavour (TV), Inspector Morse & Related Fandoms, Inspector Morse (TV), Inspector Morse - Colin Dexter
Genre: Art, Champagne, Christening of a boat, F/M, Government, Monarchy, Only it's a person, Ouch, Protection, Royalty, Suicide Attempt, The Queen - Freeform, gallery, paintings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24052672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parakeetist/pseuds/Parakeetist
Summary: Morse bumps into a very important figure. Meanwhile, Joan makes a foray into the art world, and Fred almost takes the wrong route to solve his problems with Morse.Set after series seven.
Relationships: Endeavour Morse/Joan Thursday, Fred Thursday/Win Thursday
Kudos: 2





	Endeavour: Canvas

Endeavour: Canvas  
by Parakeetist

Detective Sergeant Morse was fast asleep at his desk.  
There was a file folder open on the surface of the desk. Next to it was a steaming mug of tea. Endeavour’s body tilted to the left, and made the chair spin a little.  
DS Jim Strange walked up. At the sight of the man, Jim put a hand on the chair. It stopped spinning. Endeavour shook his head and sat up.  
“What, what?” he said. Morse blinked and looked around.  
“Up late arguing about the plants?”  
“Ah, no. What was I doing?”  
“Getting some rest. In the wrong place.”  
“Oh.” Morse adjusted his chair. “I have to learn to drink coffee, even if I don’t like it.”  
“You are turning into one another.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
Jim snorted. “I’ve got a case for you.”  
“Oh?”  
“You’ll be playing bodyguard. It’s at a golf course.”  
“Who am I protecting?”  
“I don’t know. The person specifically requested you, so go.”  
“I’ll find out when I get there?”  
“Yes. Bring your gun.”  
“All right.” Morse got up and put on his coat. “A golf course, you say?”  
“No one’s playing. They’re converting the grounds into something else.”  
“What something?”  
“I suppose you’ll find out when you get there.” Strange handed Morse a note with the address.  
“All right.” Morse put on his coat. “I’ll call you later.”  
“Hmm.” Jim straightened his tie.  
Morse walked out to the car and got underway. He got close to the location, and turned onto the approach. He eased into the parking area.  
When he got out, he saw, not far off, two dozen guards. He wondered why the guest of honor needed him, then.  
He approached the group. “Who’s in charge? I am Detective Sergeant Morse.” He took out his ID card, then put it back.  
“Ah, yes, they told us you’d be coming. Detective Sergeant Patrick Mills. I’m with the City of London police. Different from the London Metropolitan. We always need a liaison with the local department, which is why you were called here. I didn’t catch your first name.”  
“Ah-” Morse gave a lopsided smile.  
“Doesn’t matter. Here she is.”  
Mills looked toward a limousine that had just pulled up. The driver helped the passenger in the back to get out.  
If it wasn’t the ever-loving Queen herself.  
Morse, and all the other guards, snapped to attention. Her Majesty walked up.  
“Gentlemen.” The queen smiled briefly, and nodded to Mills and Morse.  
“Good morning, Ma’am.” Patrick saluted. Endeavour did the same.  
“Someone will begin?” Elizabeth said.  
“Right, Ma’am.” Patrick cleared his throat. “Be it known today, that this land is hereby transferred by the auspices of the Queen, who is the right and honorable ruler…”  
He went on for some time. Not once did he mention the purpose of the transfer. It could be a park, a military facility, a golf course, God alone knew what. Morse figured its purpose would be modest, given the size of the parcel of land, but he did not ask.  
Mills eventually wound it down. He bowed his head and stepped back.  
Elizabeth grabbed a bottle of champagne and lifted it. Then she looked around. “Oh my,” she said, “we seem to be without something to strike this on.”  
Mills looked surprised. “Why, Ma’am, we could use-” He spun around, looking for a suitable object. He didn’t see anything. There was not one table, or chair, or stone pillar for hundreds of meters.  
Just as Endeavour determined he’d run off to find something, Mills said, “My friend here.” And he pointed to Morse.  
“What?” Endeavour blurted, but Patrick seized him by the shoulders and turned him around.  
“Bite your lip,” Patrick whispered, and smiled at the Queen.  
Elizabeth lifted the bottle and swung it. Morse felt the impact as if it were from a hammer.  
The rest of the guards clapped. Patrick bent to pick up the chunks of glass from the ground. He spun Endeavour around again, this time by the hips.  
Morse winced, but then managed a smile. The Queen nodded.  
“Oh, I remember you from someplace,” she said. “You’re that lad who won the George Medal, with your boss. How is he doing?”  
“Ah, he’s well enough, Ma’am,” Morse said. There was no need to fill her in on all the disasters that had wrecked his working relationship with Frederick Thursday.  
“Good. Do you have a family of your own? I remember, the DCI met me, and he was with his wife.”  
“Ah, no, Ma’am, not yet.”  
“You must, at once.”  
“Yes, Ma’am.” Morse smiled, beginning to shiver.  
“Now, then. Let us return to London.” She walked toward the limousine. Her driver got in.  
When the car had left, Endeavour grimaced. “I smell like champagne. Joan will think I’ve been drunk.”  
“Well, there’s one way to prove that you’re not,” Patrick said, with a wink. “Who is she, your girlfriend?”  
Morse muttered something, which Patrick could not quite make out. Mills smiled. “See you,” he said.  
Morse nodded, and headed to his car.  
.......

“And this one is-”  
The gallery owner pulled the cover off a painting. The guests applauded.  
“This one is by Cedric Sheridan. Very good, Mr. Sheridan.”  
The owner, a balding man by the name of Paul Kaplan, clapped his hands. Cedric smiled from his place in the crowd. He was twenty-eight, very thin, and nervous as all get out.  
“And now, Miss-” He read the name on the card for the next painting. “Joan Thursday.”  
He pulled the cloth from the frame.  
The crowd gasped.  
Paul looked more closely at the picture. It showed a blond man, in a bright red jacket. He was sat on a chair, and with his hands placed on his lap. The room was very simple, with no other furniture than the chair.  
There was something appealing about the clean appearance of the room. The man in the picture gave off a faint air of being tired. Or, he could just be waiting for someone.  
The audience began to walk around and look at the different paintings.  
“Hello,” Cedric said to Joan.  
She smiled. “Hello.”  
“How’d you get your idea? Was it for a class?”  
“Yes. I haven’t even told my – friend that I took the class.”  
“He wouldn’t approve? Shame, that.”  
“Yes. I just have to finish my sculpture class, and I’ll be done with the Masters. Whew.” Joan wiped a hand over her forehead.  
“What material are you using for your sculpture, the one for your thesis?”  
“Brass.”  
“Ah!”  
A man walked into the gallery. He weaved among the crowd, until he approached the paintings. He looked at each of them in turn, until he came to Joan’s.  
The man stood there with his mouth open. Cedric walked up behind him.  
“I know the artist,” Sheridan said, and gestured to Joan.  
The guest turned to face them. It was none other than Endeavour Morse.  
“Oh, hello,” Joan said. “I was hoping you’d be a bit earlier, but no bother.”  
“Was that supposed to be me?” Endeavour said, pointing at the picture.  
“This is embarrassing,” Joan said, and looked down.  
Morse leaned a bit closer to the frame. “Well, I’ll be.”  
Cedric nodded to Joan. “It’s been fun. Good luck with your sculpture class.”  
“Thank you.”  
Sheridan walked away.  
Joan held her hands behind her back. “Sculpture?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Where are these classes being conducted? Is anybody naked in them?”  
“No, it’s not from life.”  
“Whew.”  
“Do you think I’d get interested and try to-” She shuddered. “Please.”  
“Eh, I do worry too much.” He stepped back. “Can we get a picture?”  
Joan rummaged in her purse and found a camera. Paul stepped up.  
“If I may?” he said. The two nodded.  
He took the picture and handed the camera back to Joan. “Usually, I don’t allow photography in the gallery, but you’re one of the artists. I’ll make an exception.”  
“Thank you, sir.”  
Endeavour and Joan walked to his car. “A gallery show!”  
“Why do you smell like wine?” Joan said.  
“Never mind that. I asked you first.”  
“I have to complete a sculpture project before they can give me my Masters.”  
He turned to face her. “Who's got a new career and everything!”  
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, and got in the passenger’s side.  
They got home. She prepared dinner.  
“I know this is late. It’s the best I can do.” She flipped over two pieces of salmon in the pan.  
“Fine with me.” Morse shifted on his chair.  
“We’ll have broccoli and rice as well.”  
“Okay.”  
When dinner was ready, she put the food on two plates, and sat down. Not a minute went by before the phone rang.  
Joan answered it. “Hello?” she said. Endeavour watched her as she spoke.  
“Hi, Mom.” Joan went quiet as her mother spoke. “Oh, no. No! That’s awful!” Joan yelped. Morse frowned. What was going on, on the other end?  
“Do you need me to come to the hospital?” Joan went on. Hospital? This was bad. “Oh. Ah-ha. Thanks, Mom. I’ll keep my ear open for your call. Bye.” Thursday hung up.  
“What’s going on?” Endeavour asked.  
Joan put a hand on her forehead. Tears trickled down her face. “It's my Dad. Today, he – tried to harm himself.”  
“What?” Endeavour said.  
“Mom came home, and he was walking in circles, and talking to himself. She said hello. He started to wave his arms. Then he took out a pistol. He put it to his head.” Joan gasped and covered his mouth.  
“No, no!” Morse shouted.  
“Mom tried to take the gun. It slipped. It went off. The bullet – it clipped his head. Mom called the ambulance. They took him in.”  
“Good God, is he all right?”  
“Mom said the bullet just grazed him, but they took him in.” She put a hand over her mouth and sobbed.  
Endeavour crossed to Joan and hugged her tightly. “I have to go see him.”  
“All right. I’ll come with you.”  
“No. Stay here. You need time to relax. We already know he’s in care. You can visit him in the morning.” He kissed her. Then he went into the bathroom, and came back with a little cup full of medicine. “This will help you sleep.”  
Joan drank the cup. “All right. If he’s awake, please tell him I love him.”  
“Get some rest.” He waved, and turned to the door.  
.......

Joan was in bed, and dozing, when Endeavour came back. He hung up his jacket and slipped out of his clothes, except for his underwear.  
Thursday turned toward him as he slipped under the covers. “How was my father?”  
“He’s doing fairly well. The bullet did graze him. The doctor said he’ll make a full recovery.”  
“Oh, God.” Joan shuddered.  
Endeavour put an arm over her. “He’s in good hands.”  
“He is.” She took a deep breath.  
“Listen, after I saw your father, I called your mother. I wanted to know something.”  
“What?”  
“What else did he say, when he was ranting?”  
“And the answer?”  
Morse sighed. “He was talking about me. He said he’d spent years working with me, and he did his best. He said I had no business telling him he wasn’t a good policeman anymore.”  
“Did you say that?”  
“Not in so many words, but more or less.”  
Joan’s face crumpled.  
“He said he taught me a lot. That I should be grateful, because he cared about me like I was his own son.”  
Joan’s body shook. Endeavour pulled her close.  
“There, there.” He sighed. “Let me tell you about this morning.”  
“Yes?”  
“I had to protect – a government official. She was receiving a piece of land.”  
“Oh. Was it exciting?”  
“Not in the least.”  
“But why did you smell like wine, when I saw you at the gallery?”  
“Ah, somebody spilled it on me.”  
“Oh.” She frowned. “Are you telling me the truth?”  
“Yes. They didn't tell me what the land was for. Could be a military installation, a launch site for satellites, anything at all.”  
“Hmm.” She kissed him on the nose. “Goodnight.”  
“Hey,” he said. “That was wrong. Let me show you how it goes.”  
They began to move.  
The warmth and the comfort overwhelmed him, so that he finished in less than a minute. He sat back on his elbows.  
“That didn’t go as I’d hoped.”  
“It’s all right,” Joan murmured. “Always tomorrow.”  
He wanted to say, given what happened to her father, “No, there’s not.” Instead, he wound up saying, “Right. Sleep well.” He kissed her again, and shut his eyes. 

THE END


End file.
